


The Shadows of Us

by ScottieIsImpatient



Series: Our Shadows [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Deathfic, Tragedy, again wow what a surprise, i pretend to be philosophical, written in five minutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottieIsImpatient/pseuds/ScottieIsImpatient
Summary: He is dead. But where does he go from there?
Series: Our Shadows [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044630
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Shadows of Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally titled "i kill malcolm again but it doesn't come as a shock to anyone" on my computer. 
> 
> Enjoy!

They stand in complete silence, clad in all black clothing, perfectly straight and still. Their eyes are on the casket before them, gentle tears streaming down their cheeks but not a sound does one make, for a funeral is a solemn and silent occasion in the minds of those left behind.

Some say that only in death can one be free. Others claim that death is the end, that the so-called beyond holds nothing but eternal darkness, a long road stretching infinitely for the one forced to tread it. There are some who choose to believe that death is little more than a doorway to the next stage in life. No one knows which of these is true, if any.

He does not know he is dead yet and therefore cannot confirm these theories. He stands with the others, also dressed in black clothing, staring silently as the casket is lowered into the dry ground. It has not rained in days. He thinks it should rain right now – it would, after all, fit the mood. A bit of rain to compensate for the odd lack of tears from most of the funeral-goers.

The casket hits the soft earth six feet under, and the gravediggers begin to dig, meanwhile the mourners all disperse. Some separate into smaller groups to chatter quietly while others return to their vehicles and vessels to travel home, eagerly awaiting a fresh new day.

No one notices him slowly weaving through the crowd. He is but another mourner dressed in black, after all.

So, blessed with the gift of invisibility, he winds his way through the crowd. His ears perk up as he walks by conversations, catching only snippets of things that sometimes pertain to him and sometimes do not.

“He was so-”

“And the cake was-”

“This time of year-”

“An unfortunate incident-”

“When he returned-”

He ignores them. They do not matter, and he does not care.

There is only one he deems worthy of his attention.

She is standing off to the side, the only one without company. Her dark brown hair is done up in just the extravagant style he’d expect her to have, though he knows it is not by her own choice. She has a tissue clutched in her hands, muffled sobs escaping her lips. The only one brave enough to cry openly.

Only then does he realize that he is dead.

And he starts crying too.

He wishes he’d had more time. He wishes he hadn’t been so distant.

But now it is too late.

A familiar man with dirty blond hair steps out of the crowd, on his way towards her. He isn’t supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be up among the stars at the captain’s side, a smile on his face and a sparkle in his eyes.

Not down on the dry, dry earth, looking ten years older and his eyes glistening with tears.

“’m sorry,” says the blond man in that familiar honey-like accent that would make anyone’s heart flutter. “Yer Maddie, right? I, ah, I was his friend.”

“You’re Commander Tucker,” says Maddie.

Commander Tucker rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah.”

Suddenly she’s thrown her arms around him and is sobbing into his neck, the pins in her hair coming undone one by one. Commander Tucker stands there for a moment, looking rather lost, but he, too, eventually leans into the embrace.

Malcolm wants so badly to join them, to join his only sister and the man he loves. Loved.

But he cannot mourn himself, and he knows the longer he stays around the more it hurts, so he takes a deep breath and lets himself go.


End file.
